Clash of the Titans
by Lady of Sandwiches
Summary: The Doctor confronts Lucifer. Hypothetical scene from "Swan Song." *SEE PROFILE FOR MORE INFO*
1. Clash of the Titans

_So this takes place in an extremely hypothetical situation in which Sam, while traveling independently from Dean in between "Good God, Y'all" and "Free to be You and Me," met up with the Doctor and had a couple of adventures with him. In this ficlet, the Doctor confronts Samifer, and tries to pass on a very important message to the human inside._

_Clash of the Titans_

Sam was waiting for him. The Doctor stepped outside of the TARDIS, shrugging on his coast, and came face-to-face with the younger Winchester - _'No,' _the Doctor corrected himself sadly, with the Devil Himself. (Well, one of the Devils Themselves. He'd met quite a few over the years.) The angel used Sam's eyes to look on the time machine with wonder and amazement, before turning on the alien. The angel's senses were so much more than a human's, and the Doctor knew that he could really, truly _see _him, not just his current regeneration, but the memories of his past lives and the shine of residual artron energy. The angel's awe increased, eyes widening in a mockery of Sam's own expressions. When Sam had first met the Doctor, he had been so earnest, so hopeful, so eager to learn. The Devil was none of this; he was cunning, and patient, too. The Doctor stuffed his hands inside his pockets, surreptitiously grasping the sonic screwdriver and locking the TARDIS door.

Just in case.

"Doctor," the angel said, all reverence and respect.

"Lucifer," the alien replied, tone carefully flat.

"I have heard," he said slowly, flatteringly, "_so_ much about you. Sammy here thinks of you a lot. You left quite the impression on him."

"Oh, did I?" The Doctor didn't stop for an answer. "The right one, I hope. Don't think it would be too beneficial for him if he picked up my driving skills. Or cooking skills. Or penchant for running away. Although, that last one might actually work out in his favor."

Lucifer chuckled, soft and measured. "I believe it was the universal compassion and the massive guilt complex." The Doctor had been feeling the effects of said guilt complex too long for him to visibly flinch. Lucifer caught onto it anyway. "To be honest, I think he might be in love with you a bit. All that knowledge and agelessness, and those big hearts of yours… Too bad he doesn't know about what you did to your planet, hmm?"

"May I speak with Sam?" he asked, studiously ignoring old and painful memories. Permission was very important to both species, but especially to the angels, the Doctor understood.

Lucifer grimaced slightly. "Well, he can hear you, if that's enough. I just got this body," and here he spread his arms as if showing off a new fancy suit, "I'm not really keen on giving it up right now." It was a lie - Lucifer could easily release Sam's voice while continuing to occupy the rest of him. But even as the Doctor wondered if he should correct him, Lucifer ignored him, caught up in his admiration of Sam, of himself. "Sam is so beautiful, don't you think? This body is so strong, so powerful, and his _soul_…" Lucifer sighed in pleasure. "So kind. Sammy's just the nicest, most selfless person ever. Do you know why he said 'yes' to me?" The Doctor knew only the version he had read about before the Time War; Romana used to discuss the reason why with him often during their travels. After the War, everything changed. This was brand new territory, a new timeline stretching out into infinity. He had no idea why Sam said yes. He let Lucifer continue. "He was going to throw himself into the Pit, taking me with him. Isn't he wonderful?" The Devil smiled gently at him. "It's a shame that no one ever saw it."

If that had been anything else other than a sly implication that the Doctor was incapable of connecting with those who traveled with him, he would rummage around for that old seven foot scarf, and eat it. Without salt.

He supposed that the Devil was only used to manipulating humans. He was sure that, had he been human, the Doctor would have been flustered out of his skull, confused and tripping over himself. As he was now, alien and all, he was only mildly irritated. For himself, that is.

He was furious for Sam.

"Then, may I speak at him?"

Lucifer shrugged. "I guess. He won't be able to talk back, you know."

"I know. As long as he can hear me."

"Suit yourself."

The Doctor stood before Lucifer, searching for some hint of Sam. A voluntary twitch, a subconscious moan, even just a spark of recognition in his eyes. But there was nothing. The angel had engulfed Sam so completely that the human was trapped within his skin, screaming inside of his own head where no one could hear him.

'_Oh, Sam…'_ The Doctor felt his hearts breaking, because Sam was far too young to have a burden of this magnitude on his shoulders, and it was _so _important that Sam hear this and understand… "Sam? It's the Doctor speaking. Can you hear me in there?" Lucifer raised Sam's eyebrow. "I promise that I'm not a hallucination, or a trick. I'm here, I'm real, and I just want to tell you something." He paused again, waiting for a reaction. When nothing happened, the Doctor took a deep breath and continued. "Samuel, Winchester, I am going to do something that I haven't done in a very long time - I am going to have faith. I have faith that you are listening to me. So listen closely.

"This - Lucifer and the demons, the Apocalypse - this is not your fault. Do you understand me?" Lucifer smirked at him, no doubt tormenting Sam inside with twisted half-truths and playing off of his guilt. "You have been manipulated all your life by other people; this is no different. How could you have possibly known that Lilith's death was the final seal?"

"Is this going anywhere?" Lucifer interrupted smoothly. If his intent was to throw the Doctor off his guard, it wasn't very successful.

"As a matter of fact, it is. Now, I believe I was talking at Sam, not at you, so if you wouldn't mind?" Lucifer arranged Sam's features into something that could be mistaken for contrition, and then into a mask of serenity, crossing his arms. "Sam…" the Doctor stopped mid-sentence. What could you say to a person who was so kind, so thoughtful, so _good_, who had brought the End of Times upon his world through no intent of his own? What could you possibly say to him?

"Sam, I need you to listen to me, because this is very important. You are _amazing_. You really are. I have seen some of humanity's best and brightest and you outstrip them by _miles_. I only take the best, remember?" He took a step forward, intending to place his hand on Sam's shoulder. Lucifer retreated a step, eyes wary and mistrustful. But that step was… hesitant. Reluctant.

_Got him._

"You're a good man, Samuel Winchester. You are _brilliant._ Remember that."

There was a moment of silence, and then, "Are we done?" Lucifer sounded bored out of his mind.

"Yep! Thanks so much for your time, I'd best be off now," the Doctor chirped, turning back towards the TARDIS. He unlocked the door, throwing over his shoulder, "You take good care of that body now - wouldn't do to damage borrowed property, now would it?"

"Wait - Doctor." The alien turned around, one foot in the door. The angel had bowed. "It was an honor to meet you."

"…Likewise." He slipped inside of the time machine, and shut the door gently. There was the sound of a wheezing, droning engine, whispers of gods long since dead, and then he was gone.

Lucifer stared at the space where he had been, a knot of uncertainty deep within his soul


	2. Snapshots of a Grand Adventure

"Uh, Doctor? I'm pretty sure we won't fit." The Doctor arches an eyebrow amusedly, before slipping inside the blue door; a quiet beckoning. Sam still thinks he's got a pretty good argument; he's almost as tall as the blue box, and he's kind of a strapping dude. For a moment, he almost turns to leave, to abandon the insane British guy in a trench coat (and seriously, why do all the weirdos in his life wear trench coats?) but his curiosity gets the better of him. He opens the door, and pokes his head in. "Doctor? Did you hear me? I don't think…"

Words fail him as he tries to cope with the sudden loss of the laws of physics.

"Oh my god. It's - "

"Bigger on the inside!" the Doctor interjects, leaning casually against the central structure. Sam steps inside, closing the door behind him quietly. He lifts his head up to the dome of the ceiling, a little bit dizzy. "So! Samuel Winchester, taking-some-time-off-from-his-brother. All of time and space," and the Doctor places his hand on a nearby lever, "any ideas?"

* * *

><p>Sam pants heavily as leans against the TARDIS door. Distantly, he can hear the hundreds of angry natives pounding at the outside. His first trip to an alien world, and within four minutes, Sam and the Doctor were running for their lives. He's somewhat disappointed, having expected tourism to the extreme, not more death-defying familiarity. "For the record," the Doctor says, darting around the TARDIS console, pulling levers and sneakers squeaking on the grate. "I'm blaming the mob on you."<p>

"Wha- how the hell was I supposed to know that the Krsy- Kirush- " the Doctor makes a noise like he was speaking through a mouthful of crackers- "those aliens would be allergic to salt?"

"Why do you even carry so much of it around?" the Doctor shouts over the roar of TARDIS engines. Sam wraps his arms around a coral column as the room thrashes and quakes.

When the engines quiet down and the room stops shaking, Sam lets go of the pillar. Then something occurs to him. "How did you even know I had salt in my bag, anyway?"

"Hmm? Oh, I smelled it," says the Doctor as he types circles into the small screen. Sam makes a noncommittal noise as some kind of response. As the silence stretches awkwardly, and it becomes clear that the Doctor has effectively ended the conversation, Sam leans back on the rail, head tilted towards the ceiling. The dome of it is a beautiful gold, and the lights pulse slowly, like the breath of some enormous creature. And to think he had thought he wouldn't be able to fit inside…

The complete desecration of the laws of physics suddenly comes back to him in one great, big, panicky rush. "Hey Doctor? How - "

"Let me ask you something, do you carry around weapons often, Sam?" the Doctor asks, head bowed over the screen.

Well, that stops him in his tracks. "What?"

"I asked if you are in the habit of carrying weapons," the Doctor repeats, and a lick of fear goes up Sam'ss spine. "Fascinating thing, salt - the chloride and sodium are absolutely essential to human life, but to the-" there is that cracker-sound again "-it's horribly, painfully acidic. Then there's the silver knife in your boot," the Doctor begins stalking towards him, radiating fury, "lethal to Lupine Wavelength Haemovariforms and all the other residents of the Muokpigan galaxy and let's not forget -" and the Doctor is backing Sam up against the railing now. The Doctor is angry, pure and simple, unyielding fury, and nothing Sam has ever seen in his life has made him feel this scared.

Or guilty.

"Let's not forget your gun," the Doctor spits out the word like a bullet, "tucked into your jeans. I don't like guns, I don't like people who use guns, and right now, Samuel Winchester, I don't like you. So let me ask you this, now - why shouldn't I throw you off my -TARDIS right now?"

* * *

><p>Sam ends up telling the Doctor everything: about his family, his life, the people he's saved and the things he's killed. The confession should feel like a weight off his chest, but one look at the Doctor's face - a mix of sorrow, anger, and, worst of all, understanding - and Sam feels more miserable than ever. The Doctor is silent for a long time, then says "Just... just keep the guns out of sight. They don't work inside the TARDIS anyway." Then he stalks off into his ship, his anger turned from Sam to himself.<p>

* * *

><p>The next trip to an alien planet is better. Not because they don't get run out of town - that night, they are thrown into a jail cell that may or may not be made out of something alive. But Sam feels like there's a new link of trust between him and the Doctor. Whatever the reason why, when the Doctor hands over his screwdriver and says, "I need you to do this for me," a layer of misery melts away, and all he can feel is a familiar thrum of adrenaline as he points the sonic tool at the lock.<p>

* * *

><p>The Doctor knew it would come to this. Sam is a curious soul; he has a need for knowledge. So he really isn't surprised when Sam asks "Can we go to your planet next?" He thinks of Martha, trusting and innocent until he had forced her to march through Hell on Earth because of his planet and his past. The Doctor wonders if he should just tell him everything. After all, he had been so open about his own past, and the Doctor knows that Sam will have far more Hell to deal with than his own mistakes.<p>

* * *

><p>The Doctor doesn't tell Sam everything. He can't. "My planet's gone," he says softly. "It was destroyed, in a war. I'm the only one left."<p>

"God, Doctor..." Sam has tears in his eyes, and before he realizes it, he reaches to pull the Doctor into a hug. Sam is a large man, and the Doctor hasn't been properly hugged since Donna... left. Instead of protesting or pulling away, he accepts the human's sympathy. Samuel Winchester is a very different person than he had expected, he muses to himself.

* * *

><p>The Doctor is sprawled across a couch in the TARDIS library, idly tapping his fingers against a Carver Edlund book. Samuel Winchester. Of course the Doctor knew about him - Romana had been very fond of the Winchester Gospels, and before the War, the Doctor used to make it a point to avoid the early twenty-first century. The world had ended, then, at the hands of Samuel Winchester. But things are different now; time is in flux. "Time can be rewritten," he murmurs to himself, like a prayer.<p>

* * *

><p>"Oh, Sam!" Sam tears his eyes away from early 20th century India and trots over to where the Doctor is, gait slowing when he sees just who the Doctor is standing with. "May I introduce you to my very good friend, Gandhiji?" As Sam's eyes grow very wide and he splutters, almost tripping over himself in excitement and admiration, the Doctor again considers the disjoint between the character in the books and the real person before him. The Doctor likes Sam, he decides. He likes him very much.<p>

* * *

><p>They're in the library. Sam takes to Gallifreyan like a fish takes to a bicycle, but that doesn't deter his enthusiasm. "That's the best part about being a hunter," he says, smiling, "I get to learn all these amazing languages." His fingers trace a circle delicately, and the Doctor wonders how he could have ever not liked Sam, not when they're both still students at heart. Sam buries himself in the old book and the Doctor goes off to make a pot of tea for them, already making a mental list of what to show him next.<p>

* * *

><p>It's Sam who notices the mob first, and he grabs the Doctor's hand and takes off, running for all he's worth. Yes, they're being chased out of another town. But they're both grinning as they sprint back to the TARDIS, and when they finally scramble inside and take off into the Vortex, they take one look at each other and burst into pr, not self-deprecating chuckles or forced huffs, but real, honest, joyful laughter. There is no way Sam could ever be the monster at the end of the book. Not now.<p>

* * *

><p>Time has been rewritten. The Doctor can count the number of times that had successfully happened on one hand and have fingers left over. The Earth is safe and the Doctor's made a fast friendship with another extraordinary human. That's plenty of cause to celebrate! He walks into the library, a skip in his step, then stops abruptly. Sam is huddled over their usual table, clutching a copy of a book by Carver Edlund. His shoulders are shaking. "Doctor... what the fuck is this?"<p>

* * *

><p>"You knew. You knew the whole fucking time. You already knew everything about me - my whole life's story, my family, the demon blood - everything! You knew what I had done! You know what I'm going to do! So why did you take me along, Doctor? Was this just some kind of, experiment? Were you trying to prove that I wasn't the monster you had heard about? Were you going to kill me before I could do something worse? ...Answer me!"<p>

* * *

><p>A week later, the Doctor is tuning up the TARDIS console. "Sam, I need you to aim the sonic while I hold this bit out of the way," says the Doctor. "Are you sure you trust me, Doctor?" Sam asks nastily. The Doctor pauses, lifts his head, looks him straight in the eyes. "Yes Sam. I do trust you." Sam snorts, disbelief and self-loathing clouding his eyes. The misery that Sam feels is radiating, crushing. They've been dealing with guilt all their lives, but it might just break them both this time.<p>

* * *

><p>"Doctor, this has been incredible. Really. It's been an honor. But you need to take me back." In the end, they always leave him alone. He can't blame them; it's not their fault if they need to get out.<p>

"...Alright. How about... Oklahoma, late 2009. Sound good?" And they should get out; his life may be exciting and shiny, but it's barely enough for him, and certainly not enough for anyone else. "

Yeah. Um. Thanks. Again."

That doesn't make it any less painful for him, though. "Of course."

* * *

><p>The Doctor steps out of the TARDIS, looks around at the flat landscape, and takes a deep breath. "America!" he calls, arms stretched to the sky. "And a particularly desolate stretch, as well." Sam follows him out, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He seems smaller, somehow, at the end of this adventure than he had when he started. The Doctor licks a finger and sticks it in the sky "The nearest town is…" he points left "…that way. Garber, Oklahoma. 50 miles."<p>

Sam blinks, blows out a breath. "50 miles, huh. Alright. I guess I'll hitchhike a bit. You couldn't have dropped me off a little bit closer to civilization, Doctor?" He tries to smile, but it fails pretty miserably.

"You know the TARDIS," says the Doctor with a scuff of converse. "Temperamental old thing."

Sam does smile, that time. "Yeah," he says, reaching out to pat the side of the box. "I'll miss her a lot."

"She'll miss you, too." A slight breeze does pick up, then, lightly shifting Sam's hair. The Doctor doesn't think the fear and the guilt will ever leave Sam's brow, but for now, he looks peaceful. Almost happy, even. He is suddenly struck by the fact that he genuinely cares for this human, for the boy with the scholar's soul and a deep respect for all life destined to destroy everything he touches. "I'll miss you, too, Sam."

Sam retracts his hand. "Yeah," he croaks. It's not like he can say anything to that.

"I don't know if this will help, but… you're not the first companion I've had. You probably guessed that. There've been others, mostly humans, long before you. And probably long after as well."

Sam ducks his head. "So, what, we're like ex-girlfriends?"

"What? No! No. I'm not explaining this well, I know. Just," The Doctor runs a hand through his hair, tugging on it, scratching the back of his neck. "the people I travel with… I only take the best. I want you to know this. I only take the best. And you? You were one of the best." Sam raises his head. His eyes look glassy, like he wants to cry but just doesn't know how to anymore. He nods, jerkily, then turns away, walking slowly down the flat Oklahoma road.

"And, Sam?" He stops, turns his head. "Take care of yourself."

"…You, too, Doctor."

The Doctor waits until a car passes him and picks Sam up, an hour and a half later, before he slips back inside of the TARDIS, and quietly leaves. The blue box disappears from the side of the highway in the middle of nowhere.

* * *

><p>The TARDIS floats in the Vortex. The Doctor is in the library, at the table cluttered with books on Gallifreyan. He idly flips the pages of the final installment of Carver Edlund's "Supernatural" series, <em>The End.<em> He doesn't know why he's reading it again. It'll only hurt, now that he knows Sam and knows how much he didn't want this. He reads _"It always had to be your brother. He held me off for a long time though - three years. Alone. Without you by his side. Sammy's so strong, so brave. Well, was. But he gave in, in the end. I won," _and he almost throws the book across the room. He doesn't.

He doesn't, because the words are suddenly different. Where before there was the Devil monologuing, now there is the history of a certain car made in 1967.

The Doctor drops the book. Then, he picks it back up. It's the same size, same color. But it's different. It feels different; he can feel time energy dissipating through the pages. He looks at the title: _Swan Song_. He reads the blurb on the back. Then he drops the book again and sprints for the console room, chair spinning in his wake.

It's a good thing that he's set the coordinates for Earth so many times, otherwise, he wouldn't be able to do a thing, his hands are shaking so much. "Time is in flux," he breathes out loud, too excited to keep his thoughts to himself. Time is in flux; events are changing, shifting, rewriting themselves. He still has a chance - _Sam _still has a chance to save the world.

And he can't possibly squander that chance.


End file.
